


Three Little Words

by Mischief0managed



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Bedrooms, Declarations Of Love, F/M, Falling In Love, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Happy Ending, Kissing, Loki (Marvel) Feels, Loki (Marvel) Needs a Hug, Love Confessions, Making Love, Making Out, Neck Kissing, Oral Sex, Protective Loki (Marvel), Romance, Romantic Fluff, Romantic Gestures, Sex, Simultaneous Orgasm, True Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:02:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27298336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mischief0managed/pseuds/Mischief0managed
Summary: A romantic date turns into something much more when the reader invites Loki into her home. As desire takes over, each discover something unique about the other. Serene, romantic and full of fluff.
Relationships: Tom Hiddleston/Loki/Reader
Comments: 8
Kudos: 23





	Three Little Words

**Author's Note:**

> This work contains explicit and graphic depictions of lovemaking. If you're not comfortable with such scenes, please refrain from proceeding any farther.

You did not know dancing could be so arousing. Especially, dancing cheek to cheek. You had not expected the date to end like this, in your house, drinking wine and dancing to songs of Elvis Presley.

You inhale his manly musk combined with the faint perfume of pinewood and the outdoors, and sigh.

'Tired?’ he asks softly.

'No,' you lay your head on his shoulders, letting him steer you along, almost as if lulling you to sleep with the gentle rocking. He presses your hand to his chest, holding it in place with his own, all the while swaying to the music. He is a born dancer, displaying a masculine grace in every movement, steady and sure.

The song has come to an end. You stand in the middle of the room, too aware of his warmth and his presence and slowly growing fidgety with the rising tension. The dim light of the night stand only heightens the senses, the way his heart beats under your palm, the soft sound of his breathing, the feel of his warm hand against your back. You make the mistake of looking up.

He is bending over you, as if waiting for some answer. As you swallow, trying to keep the dryness away from your throat, he leans in a little, as if seeking permission. So you do the only thing you’re capable of doing.

You reach up on your tiptoes and close the gap.

It’s almost a revelation, the way his lips feel on yours. He takes his time nibbling, tasting, licking every corner of your lips, letting you do the same. With him, there is nothing hurried about a kiss. It is an exploration, a discovery at each turn. You love the way he makes you feel. Special.

Growing bolder with each sweep of your tongue, you bite him gently. His low groan turns your insides into molten desire. You had no idea the sound of an aroused man could turn you on so swiftly.

It seems so is he. He picks you up and walks into your bedroom, finally settling down on the edge of the bed with you straddling him. You haven’t stopped your ministrations yet. He groans as your lips softly graze just below his ears. Your tongue darts out to flick across the smooth, cool skin. He sucks in a breath, the bedsheet bunched in his fists. You grin, marvelling at the control you have over him, this instinctive knowledge of the exact spots to kiss and cajole that would turn him into a groaning mass of desire.

Loki is a very responsive lover. You adore the way he lets go, surrendering to you, letting you see this side of him, of vulnerability and trust, without losing one whit of his masculinity.

'Do you like this?’ you breathe into his ear.

‘Y-yes,' he gasps, throwing back his head.

You place open mouthed kisses along his jaw as your fingers grope for an opening in his shirt. His hand comes round to hold your waist, his hips twitching with every graze of your nails against his skin.

The sprinkle of hair on his broad, smooth chest tickles your nose as you kiss your way down, pausing to flick across his beaded nipples, earning another satisfactory groan. He is not buff. It is a lean, muscularity that he exudes, not a hint of fat anywhere on his body. He reminds you of a panther that you once saw on TV, the same slick prowling muscularity combined with a ferocious alertness that puts one in awe of the noble creature at once. Your fingers whispers over his rigid bulge.

‘Norns, alskling,’ he mutters, arresting your wandering hands. ‘I must ask you to stop.’

‘You don’t like it?’ you worry your lower lips.

‘I do, in fact,’ he insists. ‘So much that if you keep this up, I'm afraid I’ll end up spending myself in my breeches.’

He falls backwards onto the bed, taking you down with him. His long, slender fingers push back the hair falling over your face and tucks it gently behind your ears. 'Where did you learn to do that?’

'Do what?’

‘All this.’ He tweaks your nose playfully. ‘You are truly dangerous, you know that? I might just get addicted to you and never want to leave. Where did you learn to entice a fellow like this?’

‘I’m going by instinct,' you giggle.

'If this is how you go by instinct,' with a deft twist, he flips you onto the bed and hovers over you. ‘I would fear to see where it leads.'

Then with deliberate slowness he lowers his mouth to yours, taking you in a searing kiss that threatens to rob you of any coherent thought. He kisses his way down to the gentle swell of your breasts and stops, pulling back. You mewl your displeasure.

‘My greedy little temptress,' he chuckles. ‘You’ll have your pleasure yet.’

He bends down and places a gentle hand on your dress. ‘May I?’  
You nod. He carefully pulls the frock over your head, and kisses your bare shoulders. Then he deftly slips the hook of your bra, leaving you fully exposed to his admiring gaze.

He heaves a shuddering sigh, grazing the back of his hand over your puckered nipples. You shiver at his touch, the sight of his large hands cupping your breasts arousing you more than anything. He swiftly dips his head and takes one nipple in his mouth. You feel yourself growing wetter and wetter with each swirl of his tongue around the rim. A soft moan escapes you.

He climbs back up to steal a quick kiss before peeling off his shirt and breeches. Then he lightly places his hand on your hips, silently seeking your permission to undress you. This is what you like about Loki. He respects boundaries. He never once allows himself to invade someone's comfort zone before receiving their approval.

With what could only be called reverence, he kisses your toes, your knees, your thighs. His warm breath fans against your most sensitive place, making your skin break into gooseflesh.  
Then he presses a kiss to your core. You cry out in surprise at the sudden sensations that assail you, pushing him away instinctively.

‘Shh, love,' he croons. ‘Let me.’

His mouth takes you in the most intimate of kisses, laving his tongue over and over the soft flesh. You grab onto his silky hair, struggling not to buck off of the bed.

He continues to lavish his attention until you are practically ready to come in his mouth. Then he positions himself at your entrance and gently pushes forward. You heave a startled sigh as he slips into you with ease. But he does stop at that. He surges on, deep, deep within you, to a point where it becomes painful. 

‘It’s too much, Loki,' you gasp. ‘It’s too much. I can’t take any more.’

'You can and you will,' he whispers into your ear, with the barest hint of a growl. Your nails dig into the mattress as he pushes on, inch by deliberate inch, until finally he is fully embedded in you. You take short snatches of breath to ease the discomfort of being so filled.

'That's right, my love,' he murmurs. ‘Relax. Take deep breaths. All the way into your belly.’ He places soft wet kisses on your neck and your collar bones, waiting for you to adjust to the invasion.  
You can feel his length pulsing inside, hot and slick and full. It’s a miracle how he fits into you, stretching you till you struggle to breathe.

He moves his hips ever so slightly. A tiny spark of pleasure crackles through you. Loki grins at your surprised gasp. ‘I love the noises you make when you’re pleased,' he drawls, making your heart beat a mile a minute.

Then he begins to move. You are astonished by how quickly the discomfort is replaced by a throbbing. It gets bigger with each measured thrust until you’re groaning more from the pleasure than the pain. You moan his name with each sizzle of the white hot spark that takes you unawares. It begins from your toes and fingertips, a slow tingling of awareness, and gradually pools deep within your lower belly, like a crackling ball of warmth. And with each nudge of his cock, it threatens to spill over.

His thrusts have grown faster now. He pants, his brows furrowed, intent at bringing you the fulfilment he’s promised. It takes you an effort to keep from screaming.

‘Please.. please.’

'Please what, love?’

‘Please, I want—’ you can barely string two words together now. ‘I want you to—’

'You want me to—?’ he bites into your neck gently.

‘Please, I want you. I want you...’ your breathing snags.

His thumb has found your sensitive nub and rubs it. Once. Twice. Thrice.

And you break. You topple over the precipice in a shower of stars, crying out as wave upon wave of pleasure comes crushing down on you.

He pauses for a moment, regarding you with pleased wonder, then doubles his pace. He lifts your hips to meet his forceful thrusts. You’re putty in his hands now. Just when you’re sure you can’t take anymore, he gives a final thrust and spills his seed inside you, growling your name into your hair.

When you come to, still a long way from catching your breath, he is resting on his side, looking at you with adoring eyes. You huff out an embarrassed laugh. ‘What’re you looking at?’

‘You,’ he murmurs.

'What about me?’

You expect some teasing remark, but his eyes turn serious. ‘You’re breathtakingly beautiful, did you know that?’

You burrow into his side in answer. He chuckles, drawing you closer, and presses his lips to your sweaty temple. ‘You are perfect.’

‘I’m not.'

‘You are to me. You’re my perfect.’

You kiss his bare chest. His skin flushes a light pink at your touch.

‘I love you.’

He goes still.

This is not a first. Every time you’ve said those words before, they have made him pause, as if the whole concept is still new to him and he doesn’t know how to react to the situation. It breaks your heart to think the amount of rejection and abuse he had to go through to doubt even the slightest possibility of someone genuinely loving him for himself.

'I love you,' you say again.

His eyes search your face, trying to affirm whether he’d heard it right. Then with reverent tenderness, he cups your cheek, as if you are the most fragile and valuable treasure in this world, and answers with a deep, soul stirring kiss.

You kiss him back, letting it convey all that you feel for him. Letting him know that it is okay to be vulnerable, to be open, to love and be loved. That even if he doesn’t say the words, you understand.

I love you.

There's a lifetime ahead for both of you to show how much you mean to each other, a lifetime of finding ways to express your love. But for now, those three simple words are enough.


End file.
